


I'll Keep You Alive

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [21]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellamione Cult War, Dark Hermione Granger, Dark Mark (Harry Potter), Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, One Shot, Team Furbae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 09:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20776337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: “Why,” a broken voice belonging to a face she’d forgotten long ago spoke up, chipped and broken with regret and anguish but practically singing with hatred and fury beneath its edges, “Why?”She smiled then, sharp teeth and tilted head, “Because you’ll live.”





	I'll Keep You Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Minimal Editing

“So then you accept this consequence, freely and with no reservation or inhibitions?”

Neck stiff, back aching, she nodded towards the unnatural hiss of his voice, her eyes unable or unwilling to pick him apart from the background of darkness and _ void _ that stretched before her. The tongue that had been glued to the roof of her mouth was sticky as she swallowed, thick and heavy with words she’d much prefer remain unsaid. Dehydration, exhaustion, starvation and malnutrition had all done wonders on her body until the only thing keeping her legs pumping and brain turning had been the ebb and flow of her own core; every bit cannibalized in the fight to remain alive.

“Then you understand that if this choice isn’t made freely, if it’s made not of your own will but another’s, you _ will _ burn. Nothing can save you if your heart isn’t in this fully, the Mark will eat you alive and send your essence to the Void. _ You _ will die, _ He _ will die, and then all this effort will have been for nothing.”

She swallowed again, lubrication bringing answers to his questions while the sickly lion in her chest finally broke from the venom shooting through its veins, “Yes.”

Slitted eyes no different from a vipers but surrounded on all edges by burnt and brackish red began to narrow at her from his position, while still his body remained cloaked in the unnatural darkness that seemed to follow and wreath him like a lover. He moved, then, a being of speed and fury that sent the very air between them scuttling away in fear. 

“Y-yes,” her voice wavered as terror flooded her veins and his face stopped inches from her own, “Yes My Lord, I accept. I-I understand.”

The Red pulled away with swiftness, “Then kneel before me, raise your arm, and become what you were not.”

Pent up air that had stilled and turned stale exploded from her lungs with a violent heave and a half-baked laugh, her legs so very happy to finally release their burden. Kneeling, even at the feet of _ Him _ was a wonderful change of pace from running for her life, and in the end the part that scared and pleased her more than anything was how _ wonderful _ it felt; the world had shaped and molded her for this one moment and nothing more at all. Her head cocked minutely when the thoughts sprinted through her brain, she supposed that was correct; she’d been underneath the view of a maniacal schemer since she was eleven, following along blindly at plans drawn up by a dead man that turned out to be hard as Hell to escape. 

Her knees dug harshly into the grimy floor beneath her feet, bare as she was there wasn’t anything at all to prevent the skin from bruising and scraping against errant bits of pebbles and grit. She shifted in uncomfortable silence before remembering the reason she was in this position to begin with and raised her arm up into the air at enough of an angle for him to see, forearm facing upwards while her free hand clenched into a fist that pressed down stiffly into her thigh as if the act alone would keep her back unbent and unbroken. One second passed by, then two, and then his cold fingers wrapped around her wrist and the ebony tip of his wand settled against her pale skin, his eyes flashing with something dark and wonderfully beautiful before it began.

When it began there was no stopping it, no lessening the way that pain became her only existence, her cosmos, her one and only thought and feeling; all encompassing and flooding through her like water into an eager vase. Where there had been light there now was dark, where there had been something soft in her it hardened and cracked, a fire pressing in through His wand and underneath her skin to set a fire that sought out something deep and distinct unto herself. She mouthed silent screams while the air froze up in her lungs, her eyes screwed shut and body positively thrumming with an foreign energy that soon began to creep along the edges of her mind. It writhed like eels trapped inside a too small bucket, pressing and winding over and over again as it rearranged and searched for a quiet hole to burrow itself into. 

And then it was over, the slickness in her head settled and pain faded into warmth.

_ His _ wand lifted up from where it lay against her skin to reveal the blackened scale-mark of a skull and snake now writhing along the pale expanse of her forearm. Each centimeter radiated something warm and soothing as the magic settled and commingled with her own; her body and her mind processing and romanticizing the pain that she’d been in only seconds before. It wasn’t a flash, she could still recall the burn, but now that it was in the past and _ it _ was pressing down inside her skull it all seemed to just… fade.

“Bellatrix,” the hissing voice of the - _ Her _ \- Lord rose up inside the darkness, “Take her then. She knows what she’s to do, ensure that she doesn’t fail us. And remember girl,” with that same swiftness now possessing His form He leaned down viper quick to wrap bony fingers tipped with talons around her jaw, pulling and twisting at her gaze until her magic-drunk eyes were piercing His own. She blinked once before her vision settled from two and down to one, the taut flesh of His face peering down at her as He grinned with teeth - _ too many, too sharp _ \- “Remember that I do not tolerate failure in any form. Do _ not _ disappoint.” The grip strengthened around her jaw until she could feel the tips of those dagger sharp nails poking through her flesh to wring blood into a trickle that cooled the column of her throat.

He released His hold on her before any true pain could break through the thin film the Mark was smothering her with, two arms just as pale as her own reaching underneath her outstretched form and pulling her up onto her feet. Her knees popped as she stood again, body automatically leaning backwards into the warmth behind her while an arm splayed across the flatness of her stomach to scratch and pull with insistent fervor, the other hand reaching opposite and dragging across her chest until a pale pink bud was pressed tightly between two fingers in a move that had her sucking in breath and squirming in the witch’s hold.

With discrete softness a voice began to caress her ear, “Good girl,” the hand on her stomach petting and scratching in soothing motions that were timed to the tears leaking down her cheeks and sobs erupting from her chest, - _ When did I start crying? _ \- before she was bodily hauled off and through the Manor, nothing more than willing to submit to the witch’s will.

\---

Her body was dumped forward and across a spread of comforters with little in the way of care or thought, the pillows at her head rolling and bumping as her body shook the four-poster bed. She had been half dragged, half walked, her mind slowly spinning up from beneath the blanketing haze that had settled across her to protect the memories of magic and pain. Her throat was raw and eyes red, tears now stopped but body still prickling and burning with some unknown need that grew and grew the longer she lay there.

_ ‘What am I doing,’ _ she whispered in the safety of her mind, _ ‘Why did I come here? I need to leave, I need to go-’ _

** _‘No.’_ **

She was struck then with the surety and truth that she couldn’t run, her fingers suddenly scrabbling at the fabric she lay upon and teeth cutting ridges into the soft lip pressed between their grip. She couldn’t just disappear, she couldn’t evade, ** _‘Nowhere would ever be far enough away,’_ ** she’d been given her mission and abandoning it would- 

“Roll over,” the witch that had dumped her there spoke into the quiet and the darkness, the same witch she’d already made an agreement with before receiving her Mark, the witch she’d consigned herself to; a promise for her soul if she could keep her life, a meeting and a bonding victory enough. She giggled to herself at that, now knowing they were one and the same, chest heaving and stuttering with breathless and unhinged mirth.

“Come now,” Bellatrix began again, “We’ve precious little time my Pet, and while I want you out there for our Lord, I want _ my _boon first.”

A warm hand wrapped itself around the meat of her calf muscle when she didn’t move fast enough, the fingers gripping her tightly as she was hauled back down the length of mattress, skin rubbing not unpleasantly against the patterned cloth, until finally the hands were wrapping themselves around her waist. She remembered something - **_nothing_** \- about her Vow, the one she’d made with Bellatrix that had consigned her to this madness and with little thought or fanfare she rolled herself about until her spine was pressed back into softness and her marked arm was held aloft so that her eyes could drink in the sight of _His_ brand.

Except, she realized with a slight frown, it wasn’t _ really _a brand. Nor was it a tattoo, not a real one at least. No, it was both and yet neither of the two, instead of being covered in ink or scars she was colored with small black scales that transitioned at the edges back into her own pale skin. The mottling was beautiful when it caught the light, opalescent and shimmering beneath the haze of too few candles, the whole length of it twisting and moving as the etched in snake began to dance and wriggle across her skin, its mouth closing and then opening into a silent hiss.

“Not now Pet, beautiful though it is. You’ll have plenty of time to ogle it later, but right now I’ve a need to mark and claim, and you need to shore up that courage you Lions are so well-known for.” Bellatrix’s words were soft as silk against her ears, her body pressing forward and bearing down until her hips were pressed tightly against the edges of the bed frame. When she was settled, a matter of no more than a few seconds, she bit down with as much strength and force as she could muster, teeth digging in painfully - _ pleasantly _\- against the inside of her left thigh, hands holding down her hips in case she decided to escape before relaxing slowly when she instead released a moan.

Bellatrix’s lips popped as her flesh was released, her nails dragging upwards while a tongue hurriedly busied itself with exploring and claiming the space between her legs. Her breath, previously bound up in her chest and compressed by a burning and building need, was forced out between her lips while her fingers found purchase in the cloth laying beneath her, hips bucking upwards in an attempt to find more leverage and sharper friction than the mad woman greedily drinking her up was willing to give.

Unfortunately it was all over in an excruciatingly short amount of time, a testament to the dark witch’s impatience and her own lack of experience, a building flush of red and ember flowing through her core to color skin and soul until she was panting and rollicking to ride out the high as far as it would go. While still riding at the apex the woman between her legs moved upwards along the expanse of her body, a knife pulled out from between a holster strapped down to her thigh and cursed blade licking at the air just over her skin. It was over before she came down completely, less than a minute and the blood was oozing wetly while the woman pulled her from euphoria and into her skirt covered lap.

“It’s best to hide these for now, my Pet,” a wand hovered in the air above Her Mark, _ “Episkey.” _ The skin and word sealed shut beneath her ministrations until only a thin scab covered where once she’d bled, the limb now more irritated than before its covering, “You’ll need to keep these hidden while you work, it’s not a good idea to let the Brat know you’ve switched allegiances.”

Her mind swam beneath those words, anxiety flaring and conscience trying to bash its way up from beneath the heavy folds of His Mark, trying again and again until with one final push it was all locked away. Bellatrix’s free hand passed over the twitching serpent on her forearm until it was hidden beneath a glamour that revealed only pale flesh and thin brown hairs, the action repeated along the other until it too revealed the same.

_ “Now go.” _

\---

Harry was, against all odds and against her feeble expectations, still exactly where he’d been when she’d left him early the night before.

The excuse that she’d given him was a flimsy one at best, thought up on the spot with only the slightest bit of truth threading through it to give it a spine and heft that he couldn’t ignore. She was surprised that in the intervening hours he hadn’t gotten up and left in a huff of feigned moral superiority, a shocking revelation that suddenly made all the haste she’d been through that morning all the worse; she could have enjoyed the Dark Witch and instead she was now back here. The glare though, piercing and green and so very, very tired, was all the Locket through and through. 

Metal gleamed from between his shirt and in her haste to reconnect and gain their trust she almost lost herself to the-

** _“Take it, take it now!”_ **

-words her darkness spoke.

Harry and Ronald both were rife with dirty looks and questioning stares but still they somehow fell in with her honeyed words, her hushed and hurried explanation that she’d finally found what they needed, that they needed to follow her _ now. _ Of course the pulsing beast beneath the skin of her forearm was as pleased as it could be, the Mark pounding and thrashing with a pleasurable buzz that brought a lopsided smile to her face and a spring to her step that the Boys could only attribute to happiness at having found their salvation from this mess.

Not that they needed to think otherwise; she had found their salvation, even if it wasn’t related to destroying so much as saving. They would hate her, of this she was sure, her mind conjuring up arguments and imagined anger as she ran through how they would act. They would brand her a traitor first, or perhaps a liar, finally a whore and eventually a turncoat. Ron would latch onto the Dark Witch who’d claimed her; expose the underbelly of his hypocritical enlightened upbringing. Harry though… He’d liken her to the Rat, call every decision she’d ever made into question and try to pin each and every misfortune he’d ever had the displeasure of experiencing on her and her alone. She’d be no better in his eyes than the other Lion turned to Snake, no better than the slurs she’d been called for so many years.

** _‘They’ll hate me,’_ ** the darkness swirling through her thoughts pried at her fears with knives of her own design, ** _‘But they’ll all be alive to do so.’_ **

\---

The false Sword of Gryffindor, a Portkey prepared in advance, worked like a charm; just as she’d known it would. Within a second they were spirited away through space and time, looks of shock and incredulity painting their faces first in pale terror and then rose pink rage, their hatred and anger made manifest by the Locket they had shared. Each feeling was their own, the Locket could not make minds from whole cloth, not yet at least, but it had muddled and mixed them until they could no longer tell where they began and the Locket ended. The pieces of knowledge _ He _ had lent her were as intriguing as they were Dark, her own face pulled into a grin at watching true magic work, all their resourcefulness and months of work vanished in an instant like it had never been.

And really it hadn’t, they hadn’t tried too hard nor known even how to begin. Without her intervention it would have been only a matter of months, weeks, days, and then hours before all the stress of an impossible mission became too much for them to handle. Until they came unwound from loss and inconceivable adversity.

They had all been children playing at a war that not a one of them truly understood, shepherded by adults who were _ supposed _ to guide them, and had instead led them astray. They’d followed the trail of half riddles and broken dreams in a vain hope that it would save their world, prevent disaster, right old wrongs and restore a balance that wasn’t really broken. _ He, _ and the darkness beneath her veins and the witch standing at her back, were all quick to point out the flaws in their ideals, quick to point out how much they had to lose when instead they could choose to gain. Luckily she had viewed it the same way, even before the Vow, the Locket beating around her neck had whispered and told her how to save them when they would otherwise die, told her they could live to fight another day when they were prepared and not children running around in boots far too big for their feet.

\---

They didn’t see it that way, couldn’t really she supposed, and neither did the Weasley’s, the Tonks, Longbottom or the Wolf. Each was pulled into her small lair that smelled of iron and sulfur, safe at last from the horror of their broken war. She supposed that the arms wrapping around her torso when she appeared with them but on the _ other _ side was enough to get the message across, but too much for some to handle. The witch behind her lived to reveal the depths that she had sunk to, a quick spell divesting her of clothing and another washing away the glamours hiding the truth from their view.

Of course she could only keep that up so long as there were people to surprise, people to save, and one day she knew that would end and her reward would begin; her perfect outcome for having thought ahead. Still she cherished these moments just as much as Bellatrix, reveled in the pain and purpose threading through her Marks as she was spread before her audience and claimed with a warm voice in her ear whispering _ ‘Mine.’ _

“Why,” a broken voice belonging to a face she’d forgotten long ago spoke up, chipped and broken with regret and anguish but practically singing with hatred and fury beneath its edges, “Hermione, why?”

She smiled then, sharp teeth and tilted head, “Because you’ll live.”

**Author's Note:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


End file.
